


Shoot the Bird

by Evil_Little_Dog



Series: Little Things [72]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: Community: fandom_stocking, Community: fanfic_bakeoff, F/M, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-23
Updated: 2012-01-23
Packaged: 2017-10-29 23:37:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/325422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evil_Little_Dog/pseuds/Evil_Little_Dog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary:  Ed’s got gunk in his finger joints.<br/>Disclaimer:  Arakawa's baby, not mine.<br/>Note:  I feel I should warn for teen/boy humor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shoot the Bird

“What is this gunk in your fingers, Ed?” Winry’s face screwed up as she manipulated his metal digits. “They’re sticky.”

Edward rolled his eyes, slouching even more, as if that would disconnect himself from the things Winry was doing to his automail arm. “I’ve been busy.”

“That’s not an explanation, Ed.” Leaning back, she jabbed one of her fingers in his face. “That’s not even a good excuse! You could’ve lost all motion in your joints.”

Pulling his hand free so smoothly it couldn’t be considered a jerk, Edward wriggled his fingers. “They’re fine,” he said, “see? They move and everything.” His middle finger stuck up when the others folded down, and Edward blanched as he realized he was flashing an obscene gesture at Winry.

Her eyes narrowed, and she reached for her adjustable wrench.

“It’s not my fault, Winry!” Edward, grunted as he tried to move the finger, so it wasn’t flipping Winry off. “I swear!”

“You’re the one who got gunk in your joints!” she snapped. “And look what it does! What if your fingers stuck like that when it wasn’t me?”

“Oh, like anyone else would care!”

“Your commanding officer might! Or anyone else in the military.” Winry brandished her wrench. “Give me your hand!”

“Uh-uh!” Edward tried to break his frozen fingers free, grunting with effort.

“Dummy!” Winry jerked at his wrist, pulling his metal arm free. “This is going to need to be soaked in a warm oil bath, and I may have to use a pick to clean the dirt out of the joints,” her voice dissolved into some sort of irritated grumble, not even realizing how close she was pressed to Ed.

He fought to keep from grinning. Seriously, this was the best use he’d ever come up with for a mud puddle.


End file.
